


Upkeep

by strobelighted



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strobelighted/pseuds/strobelighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes a bro just needs to help a bro out."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upkeep

Stiles hums to himself as he attempts to get the key out of his pocket while juggling bags of groceries and a half full cup of coffee. Despite the early hour, he’s feeling good. Today is his dad’s birthday, and he’s planning on a good old-fashioned, much-need father-son bonding session this evening. He’s even going to make steak for his dad for once. With a nice big helping of vegetables to go with it, of course. 

He finally makes it inside without dropping anything and dumps the bags on the kitchen counter. He puts away the food and takes out the decoration. The happy birthday sign could probably go really well above the couch, and balloons in every corner of the living room look good. He still has to clean up everything first, because he’s a good son, and they haven’t actually vacuumed for weeks, and the table is filled with random papers and things Stiles or his dad were too lazy to put away.

Stiles rubs his hands together. He’s ready for this. He’s full of energy. He’s going to make his dad happy for once, dammit. He runs up the stairs to change into work clothes and take a piss.

He pushes the bathroom door open, hands already at his jeans button, and promptly lets out a -- totally manly -- scream and jumps backward arms flailing, because _there is a stranger in his bathroom._

The guy turns around and Stiles's breath comes back to him, because it's Derek.

"What the fuck, dude?" he says, and if it comes out louder than normal, well he just almost had a heart attack; he's allowed.

Derek actually looks surprised. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are wide, staring at Stiles like Stiles is the one half-naked in another person's bathroom.

His chest is covered with white stuff, and then Stiles notices the razor in Derek's half-raised hand and --

"Is that shaving cream? Oh my god, are you _manscaping_?" 

Derek closes his mouth and huffs out through his nose, eyebrows drawing down in his regular scowl.

"I don't have a bathroom," he says in the same irritated way he used to threaten Stiles with bodily harm.

Which, okay, that's true. Still, it's Derek's own fault for hiding out in abandoned run-down places and refusing to get an actual apartment like a real adult.

"So, what, you think it's okay to sneak into somebody else's house to use theirs?" he says. "Are you insane? No, wait, you don't need to answer that. I already know you're crazy."

Derek rolls his eyes. Seriously, the nerve of this guy. 

Stiles gets a sudden idea. "Wait, hold still," he says as he reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out his phone. "Scott needs to see this."

"Stiles, no," says Derek, reaching out. Stiles snaps a quick photo, backing up, out of Derek's reach. Derek takes a step toward him, and then something strange happens. There's this weird spasm that seems to travel down his arm, and the hand that was reaching out for Stiles suddenly trembles before Derek quickly makes a fist and draws it back down to his side, turning away as if to shield it from Stiles's view.

Stiles pauses in his picture taking.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Serious bodily injury is a much more reasonable explanation for Derek breaking into Stiles's house like a creep. 

"I'm fine," Derek grits out, and he turns away from Stiles, dropping the razor into the sink before grabbing the edges and holding on. His knuckles are turning white.

Stiles steps into the bathroom and reaches out a hesitant hand, stopping just short of actually touching Derek's shoulder.

"What happened?" he asks.

Derek breathes out harshly, and Stiles thinks he's just going to ignore him, but then Derek speaks.

"Wolfsbane."

Stiles's heart starts beating fast suddenly, a familiar tightness gathering around his chest, remembering the last time Derek had come to him with wolfsbane poisoning, when he'd almost had to cut off Derek's whole arm.

"I can call Scott," he starts, plans already spinning in his head. "We can drive to Deaton's he might have the antidote or something--"

"It's not -- " Derek stops, takes a deep breath, then turns to face Stiles. "I'm not _dying_ ," and he rolls his eyes like Stiles is being stupid. "I was just handling some of the stuff earlier, and it got on my hands. I think I'm allergic."

He holds out his palms so Stiles can see, and there is indeed a weird reddish rash there, spreading up over his wrists and almost to his elbows. He reaches out to touch, but Derek pulls his hands back quickly.

"Does it hurt?" he says.

Derek nods. "It'll go away eventually, I think."

"Okay," Stiles says, and his body is starting to calm down finally. "Right, that's good then. But it still doesn't explain why you're in my bathroom. And is that my shaving cream you're using? That stuff isn't cheap, you know, and I'm not rolling in dough or anything."

"I brought my own," Derek says. "Yours smells weird."

And okay, there's no need to actually be rude here.

"You're in _my_ bathroom," Stiles feels the need to point out. Again.

Derek rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I got it. And I told you, I don't have one. You weren't supposed to be home, anyway."

"Wasn't supposed to --? I _live_ here." Maybe some of that wolfsbane got into Derek's head or something, because he's not making any sense. "Did you accidentally lick your hands? Are you moon crazy or whatever?"

Derek just looks exasperated now. "You were supposed to be at Scott's."

"How did you --? You know what, don't tell me, I don't need to know your creepy ways." He waves his hands around, taking in the space around them. "You can use this, whatever, I don't care. I have shit I need to do. Just let me know when you're done. And leave by the front door this time, like a real person."

He turns his back and heads to his room, tossing the phone on his bed and shrugging out of his hoodie. He's toeing off his sneakers when he hears a muffled curse and a rattling from the bathroom.

"Everything okay in there?" he calls out.

There's no answer, so Stiles decides to ignore it. He's about to sit down at his laptop when there's a grunt and then a worrying clang.

"You know, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't break anything," he says. There's total silence then, which is somehow even more worrying. "Derek?"

When there's still no reply, Stiles sighs heavily and gets up.

"You better not be dying in there, because I really don't want to explain this to my dad," he's saying, but when he opens the bathroom door, Derek is just sitting on toilet, staring at his open palms like they've betrayed him. There is a stripe of clear skin in the middle of the shaving cream on his chest. The razor is in the middle of the sink.

"Uh," Stiles says.

Derek keeps silent for a moment longer, then finally grits out through his teeth, "It hurts."

Stiles nods. "Okay, right." He licks his lips. "You want some help with that?" 

Did he actually just say that out loud? From the surprised look on Derek's face, it looks like yes. Yes, he did. The surprise quickly turns to suspicion.

"Are you serious?"

Stiles shrugs. "Sometimes a bro just needs to help a bro out."

The corner of Derek's mouth curls up. "I didn't realize we were bros."

"I've seen you when you were dying, man, and we've saved each other's lives way too many times to be normal. I think that qualifies us for some sort of broship. Broness. Bromance?"

Derek shakes his head, but he looks more relaxed as he stands up. He grabs the razor from the sink and holds it out to Stiles.

Stiles's tongue suddenly feels too thick for his mouth. "Really?" he manages to get out. He hopes it doesn't sound as weird to Derek as it does to him.

Derek just huffs and grabs Stiles's arm to pull him in all the way.

"Here," he says, and puts the razor in Stiles's hands. His fingers are incredibly hot. Temperature-wise, that is. 

"Wow, yeah, okay. Sure, I'll just do this then." Stiles snaps his mouth shut. The less talking the better, probably.

Derek leans back against the sink, hands at his sides. Stiles steps in closer. He's less than a foot away from Derek now, and it's weird, being in his space when there's nothing life threatening on the horizon. Just a bro helping another bro shave. Nothing out of the ordinary about that.

He licks his lips, and his eyes zero in on Derek's collarbone. He's suddenly glad that Derek at least managed to get the shaving cream on himself.

He brings the razor up, places it just under Derek's throat, and drags it down, pressing in only slightly. The skin underneath is nice and smooth.

Stiles pulls the razor away. "Uh, I need to --" He gestures toward the sink, but Derek doesn't move. Stiles glances up to find Derek looking at him, his eyes focused, intent. Why does it feel like Derek is the one with the upper hand here when Stiles is the one with a sharp object in his hand?

"Yeah, okay," he says, and reaches around Derek to turn on the tap and rinse the razor. He leaves the water running as he returns to his task.

"So," he says to fill the silence, but it comes out weirdly high-pitched. He clears his throat, places the razor on the skin of Derek's sternum and pulls it left. "What were you doing with wolfsbane?"

He leans around, careful not to touch, and rinses.

"I'm making a collection," Derek says. Stiles raises his eyebrows, stares at him. "In case of emergencies," Derek continues.

"That's ... actually pretty smart. Who knew you had it in you?" Derek scowls at the wide grin on his face. "Hey, man, it's not like you've always had the best ideas in the past. But yeah, you know, a wolfsbane collection is pretty good. Saves me from having a heart attack at the sight of your gross, rotting arm ever again."

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek says, but it doesn't have any bite to it.

Stiles smiles to himself and goes back to his work. He drags the razor down, right up to Derek's nipple, careful not to go too far. Derek's quiet then, and Stiles doesn't ask him anything else, just continues carefully, dragging the razor around Derek's skin over and over, reaching back to rinse the cream off. The top part of Derek's chest is mostly clean now, skin completely bare, smooth. Stiles has to put his hand on Derek then, lift up pull the skin taut under his pecs, and it's ridiculous that Derek has manboobs. Stiles is opening his mouth to tell Derek that, but he's distracted by the way Derek inhales loudly then, the way his nipple gets hard under Stiles's fingers.

Stiles swallows, but he doesn't say anything as he drags the razor up. He tries not to notice how hot Derek's skin is, how weirdly soft over his hard muscles. Derek's totally ripped, that's obvious with anyone with eyes, but it's one thing to see and completely another thing to actually touch. At least, when neither of them is actually dying.

He doesn't look at Derek's face at he leans around him again. He finishes his chest, keeping his hands on Derek's skin as little as possible, touching only when necessary.

All that's left are Derek's abs, and Stiles drops to his knees to get a better angle. There's a bitten off noise above him, and when Stiles looks up, Derek is looking down at him, eyes heavy and intense, lips slightly parted. The tips of his tongue appears at the corner of his mouth for just a second. There's a slight tremor to his arms, Stiles notices then. Derek's gripping the edges of the sink hard. Stiles can see the way his chest moves as he breathes in and out, and Stiles can hear it even above the running water.

It hits Stiles then, the position they're in. He's on his knees in front of Derek, and Derek's jeans are opened, pulled down slightly, and how did he not notice that before?

Derek doesn't say anything though, so Stiles takes a deep breath and keeps going. He drags the razor down, down, down, right to where there's the softest dusting of hair above the jeans. Stiles licks his lips.

It only takes another minute, but it feels like a lifetime. Derek is holding himself completely rigid by the time Stiles takes the last swipe with the razor before dropping it in the sink. He's still on his knees, staring at the popped button on Derek's jeans. He digs his fingers into his own thighs, closes his eyes.

"Stiles," Derek starts.

"Shut up," Stiles says, and he's decided then. He reaches up, pulls the zipper all the way down, tugs on the jeans. Derek doesn't wear underwear, of course. And then before he can say or do anything, there is Derek's dick, right in his face, and it's already half-hard.

"You don't -- " Derek tries to say.

"I said, shut up," Stiles interrupts. He puts a hand around Derek's bare hip. The skin is still hot under his palm, but somehow not as hot as Derek's cock when Stiles wraps his other hand around it, before leaning in carefully and wrapping his lips around the head.

He's always dreamed of doing this, at least since he knew what _this_ was. He has a list of sex things he wants to try out. It's three pages long in Word and very detailed. He likes to get creative, okay? Giving a blowjob is pretty high up there, right next to getting one, but he figures that can wait for later.

Derek's cock tastes mostly like clean skin. Did he use Stiles's shower before Stiles got home? Did he use Stiles's soap? His washcloth? It's an interesting thought, and one he'd like to explore at some point. Right now is not the time, though, so Stiles files it away to question Derek about later and focuses on the task at hand. He goes down as far as he can go, before the head hits the back of his throat, and he feels his gag reflex start to kick in. He pulls back fast, completely off, clears his throat before going back in. He keeps his lips just around the head this time, tonguing around it, feeling the slit, playing with Derek's foreskin.

There's a low whine above him, and Stiles glances up, but Derek's head is thrown back and all he can see is the long line of his neck. He can't help feeling a bit smug that he can affect Derek like this. He closes his eyes and breathes in, and it smells good, smells like skin and slightly like sex, like his own hand after he jerks off. 

Derek's breathing is loud above him, and Stiles's own skin is starting to get hot now, sweat forming in his armpits, the small of his back, the backs of his knees. He takes his mouth off Derek's cock, moves his head down to run his tongue right up the underside, and revels in the groan Derek lets out. There's a lot Stiles wants to try -- he's watched a lot of videos, okay? He flicks his tongue right at the tip, quickly and softly, barely putting any pressure. He swirls his tongue around the head, letting his saliva pool down, getting everything wet. He moves his hand up and down the shaft slowly, twisting when he reaches the base. He follows it with his mouth, going down halfway, back up slowly, then quick, then slow again.

His jaw is aching slightly, but he's getting really into it. This is _fun_.

"Stiles, I'm gonna," Derek breathes out, and Stiles knows he should probably pull off, but he's curious, he wants to see what it will taste like, so he just hums around the dick in his mouth, keeps moving, and then there's liquid hitting the back of his throat, Derek's hip trembling under his hand, probably trying to not push too far into Stiles's mouth. He swallows it down quickly, but it's too much, so he pulls back and lets the rest of it hit his chin, his throat.

Derek's dick is starting to go soft in his hand, so he lets it go, petting it gently before pulling back. He shuffles backwards on his knees, and the movement makes him realize how tight his pants are now. It's like he'd almost forgotten how turned on he was, so focused on Derek, on the hard cock in his mouth, but now it's at the forefront of his mind, and he doesn't hesitate before he unbuttons his jeans and sticks his hand into his boxers.

It's good, he knows exactly what to do, and he's close, so close already. He glances up at Derek, who is looking at him like he can't believe that just happened to him, and that's enough for Stiles. He squeezes tightly and pushes up, hips coming off the floor, and then he's coming, head hitting the wall behind him, body arching up into the grip.

Stiles stands up slowly, carefully, one hand on the wall behind him, making sure his legs aren't complete jelly. Derek tracks his movement, but when Stiles catches his gaze, he looks carefully at a spot somewhere behind Stiles's left ear. If Stiles didn't know any better, he'd say Derek looks a little bit lost.

"Are you gonna be weird about this?" he blurts out. Real smooth, Stiles.

Derek clears his throat. "What's there to be weird about?" He's still not looking directly at Stiles.

Stiles groans, throwing his hands up. "Come on, dude, it's just a blowjob." It's not really just a blowjob, but Stiles can pretend.

Derek finally looks at him, except not in the way Stiles wanted. He looks angry. " _Just_ a blowjob? Have you even done that before?"

"Hey man, no need to insult my skills. You seemed to like it at the time." Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't care if he seems petulant.

"That's not -- it was fine, Stiles, that's not what I'm talking about."

"Fine," Stiles repeats.

Derek sighs. "It was great," he says quietly. He looks down at the floor again, then back up at Stiles, as if he's looking for something in Stiles's expression. Stiles waits him out. "I just don't know what you want from me."

 _Who says I want anything from you_ , Stiles wants to say, but this is really not the time to get into an argument. He runs a hand through his hair and thinks.

"How about, I don't know, a date?" He tries to smile at Derek, but it probably looks weird. Also he still has come on his chin, and it's starting to feel funny. He grabs a towel from the rack on the door and wipes his face off.

"A date?" Derek says, and he sounds unsure.

Stiles lets the towel drop, looks down at his socked feet.

"I mean, we could try it. You know, dinner, maybe a movie, I hear that's what people do. You don't have to though, obviously."

"Okay," Derek says.

Stiles glances up. "Yeah?" He can feel a smile forming on his face, and his stomach does a small flip when he realizes Derek's starting to smile too.

"Yeah," Derek says, and that's definitely a smile on his face now, and wow, Stiles didn't realize a person's face could change that dramatically just because of a smile, but Derek's is. He looks different, somehow, relaxed. Happy, maybe.

"Okay," Stiles says, and then he springs into motion. He grabs a washcloth and wipes down the remaining shaving cream on Derek's torso. "There," he says, "good as new." He grins up at Derek when he's done.

Derek's still smiling at him, and something warm unfurls in Stiles's chest.

"Do you want to help with the wolfsbane?" Derek asks, trying to sound casual. It almost works.

"Sure, I can --" Stiles starts, but then he remembers. "Oh man, I can't, I'm sorry. It's just, today's my dad's birthday, and I was gonna, like, clean the entire house, make him a special dinner, all that good stuff. It's why I got home so early."

There's a look of disappointment on Derek's face, but it's gone quickly. "Right," he says.

He looks like he's going to say something else, something dumb, so Stiles gets in before he can. "How about tomorrow?"

Derek seems to perk up. "Tomorrow's good," he says, cautiously.

Stiles grins wide. "Tomorrow it is then."

Derek is still standing there, a kind of dopey look on his face, so Stiles feels it's his job to move him into action. "Well, I really have to get started on my dad's things, so like, you should probably go."

"Oh," Derek says, then springs into motion. He grabs his shirt from on top of the toilet, puts it on, gathers all his bathroom stuff in a bag. Stiles walks him down to the front door, insisting that people he's going to be dating don't have to use windows.

Derek hesitates right before he steps out. "Tomorrow then?"

"Yup," Stiles tells him cheerfully, and Derek turns around, takes one step, and then it hits Stiles. "Wait," he says, and barely waits for Derek to turn back to face him before he grabs Derek's face and kisses him.

Derek's lips are warm and soft, and they move against his own in the best way. Stiles thinks he could do this forever, but he really does have a busy day ahead, so he pulls back with a twinge of disappointment.

"Tomorrow," he says, and it comes out a bit breathy. Derek nods, smiles, and pulls back. Stiles watches him walk off down the street.

Tomorrow, he thinks to himself, and it feels like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to drunktuesdays. Concrit is always welcome!


End file.
